You Never Know
by Celrevia
Summary: A one-shot Eriol POV of painting at the park. Slight angst and E/T. Please R+R


Author Note: Needed a break from my current work so that my brain wouldn't implode. People have asked me to do something, anything, in Eriol's point of view, so here it is. Short, simple, one-shot. 

I don't own CCS characters but if I did… Well, anyway, what I do own is this story so no plagiarism. This story is © Celrevia.

Please note that I've gotten very little sleep in the past couple of days so my spelling and grammar aren't what they used to be.

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You Never Know

The one thing, _the_ absolute aggravation of my life is fate. Fate is very fickle. Twisting and turning to demise it's own plains so that in the end, when the picture is starting to be painted, everything will work out just right. But in the process of this painting, before any line is drawn, fate decides to do something extremely clever.

Or what _it_ believes is clever.

It ranges anything from laying down a background and then painting over it completely so that the viewer would never see the wonderful scene behind the main point. Or maybe, it decides that this painting is completely worthless, just a beginning to a larger picture and throws it away.

But…

No matter what happens, fate always manages to paint the scene, the embodiment, of the true meaning in the end. Of course, this means playing around with a million souls, touching a million people like a million different colors. Trying one here, mixing another one with a brighter hue, adding shadow, light, taking and adding, just to create something new. 

Some people are the paint. And some are painters. Some are weavers, some are the woven and so on and so forth. The point is, someone has to be there to create it. Someone, someone that could have the power, the will, the sheer love of life to move the paints, to dip the brush and to create a chef d'oeuvre. 

A masterpiece…

Something that would make people smile, and be happy and such.

But, there are always exceptions.

Sometimes, a painter paints a solitary picture, something along, just using one color that is only varied in shades. 

But, the painter may argue, it is beautiful in itself. Something along and solitary and something soaked in its own meaning.

So much so that you realize that the picture could become two different ones. One would be darker, one lighter, two different pictures. 

Human nature is always looking toward the lighter, so that one would probably be the best. But, you can like the shadows too. Shadows are what make the world, at least in my view.

But, wouldn't it get lonely? Just absolutely so lonely for that one picture, that one picture with one color, with varied shades and different textures and ideas and a will of it's own, to be all alone. All alone without something else to add to it.

It would be like, a single flower in a desert, so beautiful yet so alone. And no other flower to share company with. To tell about the wonders of the world, the solitude of dreams and the mystery of life.

However, as philosophical as it is, it would be a lot simpler, if the painter just added more to the picture.

Maybe, the painter would paint the ocean. Wisps of sorrowful white foam on dark everlasting cobalt blue. Something deep in meaning, sorrowful. Or maybe, just maybe, the painter would paint something more vivid.

Something so alive and spicy, so profoundly beautiful. 

It would be a rose, a single blood red rose against the fathomless dark azure sky. But, after a while, the brilliant reds, the wonder of it, all would fade. And, it would seem to some, that the rose recoiled from the sky, but stayed, stayed just a little longer, to soak in the power of the sky. To apologize for fading away, for leaving the sky to its own demise. 

A more pleasing picture, would be that of a tree. A blossoming tree of little pink petals, surrounded by the soft earth with its emerald grass and long twisting vines. Perhaps, a bird would build itself a nest in the tree. Maybe, the dark cold night would wrap itself around the tree, for protection. Watching over the tree and the vines that wrapped themselves securely, almost lovingly, around the tree. The night would house the bird too. And the bird could fly into the night, fly and join the stars in their dance of life.

But wouldn't it be sad, very sorrowful, if the bird were afraid of the night?

Yes, it would be. And perhaps the bird would be so in love with it's home in the heart of the tree that it would stay there. Stay there for eternity and not look at anything else. Not even the wide expanse of the sky, not to drink from cool waters, frozen lakes, see through the sapphire neither realms.

And it would be such a sorrowful picture. Because, even though the vines and the grass, bright in hue, wrapped around the tree and protected and loved it. Even if, the sky watched over everything. Even if the stars were bright and the music of the night carried itself so fully…

The bird would die…

Because, when you hold onto one thing forever, for as long as you can, you forget the joys of living.

I guess, you could say, Daidouji-san, that I'm a great artist. I have skill, I can certainly envision things, and my ideas and paints are always the best. 

And while you may laugh and say that my modesty is great. That my paintings are wonderful, that my skill is unmatched and that my paints are so alive…

I could never truly capture the heart.

Because I'm not the painter, the artist. I'm not the paint, I don't join in the wonder of being created and formed and made a new or changing to go along with others.

I am just a paintbrush. 

Along, I can not be used. 

I have to be picked up by the artist, I have to help the artist pick up the paint, to add light and shadow and details…

And love…

But…

Never can I love on my own.

Some artists, have one brush, some have two and maybe a million. But my artist, my painter, used only me.

To create, to destroy, to make…

And maybe, when I lay down the soft pink tinge of the cherry blossom, or the steady green aura, when the violet smoky hues of your eyes forms itself on the paper, I'll appreciate it.

And maybe, the painting would forget the loneliness of being alone, or the ocean would stop its never-ending storm and settle, and maybe, the sky could forget the rose, just for a second, to focus on the field of other flowers and life.

And maybe, when the painter puts down the brush, everything will be alright. But, to tell the truth, no painting is ever finished. For every painting that is painted, there are a million others to paint.

I put down my brush, and all of you are running toward me, smiling. Sakura-san and my cute little descendant are in the front, but of course he wouldn't let Sakura-san know that he would and could pass her. He remains in the same step as her. 

You aren't far behind, though you have to hitch up your skirts a little and your long trail of hair is completely wild. 

Chiharu-san is viciously beating Yamazaki-kun with her hat and Rika-san and Naoko-san are talking about some new book.

It's strange how you're the only one I'm not on a first name basis with. But, you never mind, and I guess I don't mind, too much that is.

I wave to Kaho while she walks down the path with her new husband. She gives me a quick happy smile and I focus my attention of the group portrait I had completed.

It was very beautiful, with my cute little descendant in next to Sakura who leaned against Chiharu-san who was frozen in the motion of punching Yamazaki while in one of his tall tales. Rika was holding Tarada-sensei's hand and Rika held a book. Kinimoto-san and Tsukira-san have their arms slung over each other in a friendly manner. I had Cerberus and Yue are cleverly painted in the back where I placed a little magic so anyone who didn't know about them couldn't see them. Fujitaka-sensei is standing next to Sonomi-san who looks like she could turn homicidal on him any minute. 

You're there too, just behind Sakura as always, your eyes don't radiate as much sadness and your smile hides a slight frown. Your hair tumbles in silky black waves down your shoulders and you're very beautiful.

"Hoe, Eriol-kun, I wish I could paint like you do." 

"You probably don't Sakura, you'd find that a lot of people will swarm you to paint group portraits on nice days in the park."

"Not bad…Hiiragizawa."

"That's quite a compliment from you my cute-little-descendant."

"Shut up."

"Hoe… What about you Tomoyo-chan? What do you think?"

I pause to stare into your face as you study the painting with an expert eye. I know you can see the hidden meaning behind each brushstroke, you match the proportions and study the use of colors.

"Yes, what do you think Miss Daidouji?"

"Very nice Hiiragizawa-kun, but…"

"But?" I ask hollowly.

The picture is perfection, but that's mainly because you're in it.

"But…you forgot something important!"

You shake your head a bit, and I wonder what it is. I put down my signature, the colors, hue, saturation, shading, proportions… Everything was there. The bright acrylic paint gleamed and you could see how smooth it was. A true magnum opus. 

"Enlighten me dear Daidouji-san."

"You…"

"Pardon?"

"You! You forgot you!" You say in a slightly exasperated voice.

I look at the picture, and indeed, I'm not in the group, how ironic.

You pick up the brush and I move over as you cleverly mix blues, blacks, and grays together. With a fine tipped brush you start to paint write on the picture. I can see my face, my hair, my form, all right next to your freshly painted one. One of my arms is behind your head where I'm giving you bunny ears and I have a bottle of water, which I'm pouring over Syaoran's head. 

"I must admit Daidouji-san, your humor is most amusing."

"Are you going to paint me another picture?"

"You never know…"

"You're wrong Hiiragizawa-kun. You could know if you wanted to."

My mouth crinkles into a smile.

"You're always right Miss Daidouji."

"Well aren't you coming? Where going to go get some snow cones."

"I'd love to." I reply.

Picking up my paint set, I neatly arrange everything and wash off the paintbrush. Carefully picking up the portrait I follow my group of chattering friends.

You never know…

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Not too shabby for my first CCS one-shot in a while. Please review and give me your thoughts. 


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